“Don’t talk to my wife like that!” he snapped, his voice hoarse with anger, veins standing out along his neck.
Magnus stared at him for a beat, stunned—then his expression darkened.
“Fine!” he barked, irritation exploding out of him. “Do whatever the fuck you want—spoil her all your life for all I care!”
He huffed loudly, raking a hand through his hair, then turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him with a sharp bang.
The room fell into an uneasy silence.
Alexander brought the phone back to his ear. He closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to breathe through the tightness in his chest, pushing down the pain. When he spoke again, his voice was noticeably softer, gentler, as if afraid of scaring her away.
“Mia…” he said quietly. “Don’t pay attention to him.”
He swallowed, fingers tightening around the phone.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m fine,” he added, lying without hesitation. “It’s almost midnight. Don’t bother coming. Just go to sleep.”
On the other end of the line, there was no answer.
Only the faint sound of breathing—soft, distant.
Alexander waited.
Seconds stretched painfully.
Then the call ended.
An abrupt silence.
Alexander kept the phone pressed to his ear for another second, frozen. Slowly, his grip loosened. The phone slipped from his fingers and landed softly on the bed beside him.
He exhaled deeply, the breath shuddering out of him.
Disappointment tightened every line of his face, his jaw clenching as he turned his gaze toward the window. The city lights outside blurred faintly, reflecting back a lonely, fractured image of himself in the glass.
***
Barely half an hour later, Magnus strode through the hospital corridors again, walking fast, long strides eating up the distance. His attention was fixed on his phone, thumb scrolling absently.
He turned a corner without looking.
And collided straight into someone.
“Shit—” Magnus muttered, instinctively reaching out.
He grabbed the smaller figure by the arm to steady them before they stumbled back.
Then he froze.
Mia stood in front of him.
“Mia?” he said, shock flashing across his face. His eyes widened slightly. “You came?”
She looked up at him, her face composed, calm—but the faint line of tension between her brows gave her away. She didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“Where is he?” she asked evenly. “Which room is Mr. Graves in?”
“Room number five,” Magnus replied automatically.
